I try to be rational and suppress the hope that this is for real, but hope has a way of closing its eyes to reason and it just keeps growing.

I say I don't believe in love, but that's not really true - love is just the name of an emotion. It's like on steroids. It's lust with ethics.

Not stupid. Overly trusting, maybe, but that reflects on his lack of trustworthiness, not on your intelligence.

No offense to hot girls everywhere- but newsflash- there are hot girls everywhere.

Something about first love defies duplication. Before it, your heart is blank. Unwritten. After, the walls are left inscribed and graffitied. When it ends, no amount of scrubbing will purge the scrawled oaths and sketched images, but sooner or later, you find that there’s space for someone else, between the words and in the margins.

Really, he could have just punched me in the stomach, because my brain refused to comprehend the words he was saying. A physical assault, it might have understood.

Somebody always wants more.